Model Behavior
by LastChancetoBreathe
Summary: The Winter Soldier infiltrates Stark Tower. (No slash)


Okay...how to go about explaining this random story? I may have developed a crush on Sebastian Stan and I had a mental image of Bucky looking like Sebastian normally does, but still being all Winter-Soldier-skilled and attacking the Avengers.

Then it turned kinda funny.

And I just.

I don't even.

This happened.

And I obviously don't own any of the Avengers.

No slash, as always.

* * *

There had to be an easier way to meet up with Steve Rogers. But ever since the dismantling of S.H.I.E.L.D., Steve had been sealed away in Stark Tower for his own safety. The security at Stark's place was not something the Soldier could easily get past, but he'd found his in.

He glanced down at the piece of paper that he'd printed off at his hotel. A few days before, he'd tapped into Pepper Potts' network and caught a leaked email that Tony sought models for an Avengers party he was throwing at Stark Tower. Both female and male models were needed since, as Tony replied to Pepper's exasperated correspondence, he "didn't want to leave Romanov without any eye candy." Potts arranged to have models sent over today and tomorrow for Tony to personally approve.

Certainly, there were easier ways to get to Steve. But he couldn't deny that the foreign sensation of excitement that filled him at pulling off an undercover operation felt too good to pass up. And now that he had no one to report to, he could do what he pleased.

At first, being completely unrestrained left him discombobulated, particularly as the tattered fragments of who he used to be came climbing to the surface. A faint glimpse of impersonating a German ambassador, a flash of going to Coney Island with some scrawny kid, getting a clean shot at some political candidate from three buildings over.

Enough came back to convince him that he had the skills to get him into any place he wanted. Though all the leather, masks, and metal arm were meant to leave his distinct mark on a particular mission, there were missions that required infiltration and, though he preferred to be the silent assassin, he could pull off undercover work as well as any secret agent.

So he had a plan to infiltrate Stark Tower. Because, even if he wasn't sure he could handle all-around-good-guy-Steve-Rogers, vague memories of a snarky man with a mustache assured him that he could take whatever a Stark could dish out. And once he had Stark, he could get to Steve.

He knew enough to blend into the city around him even if aspects of pop culture slipped by him and he knew the first thing he had to do was get a haircut. He flashed what he hoped was a convincing smile to the stylist at the salon he walked into.

"What can I do for you today?"

"Surprise me."

Her face lit up and _chop_ went the scissors. As the hair fell into his lap in lank strands, he couldn't help but think he was finally leaving the Winter Soldier behind. He may not know who he is or who he was, but the shorter hair just felt _right_. When the stylist turned him around to catch a glimpse, he felt a more genuine smile creep over his face at the slightly spiked tufts. Just long enough to style, but not long enough to fall over his eyes and get in his way. So much more practical. He would forever wonder why HYDRA let him run around with his hair always compromising his vision.

The girl beamed at his expression. "You know, I can give you a shave too. Some girls like the scraggly hobo look, but if you wanna be a real looker, I'd suggest going smooth."

He scratched at the scruff on his face. Might as well. "I'm in your hands."

And didn't _that_ make her almost swallow her gum.

She was right though. By the time she finished, he didn't recognize himself. He looked about ten years younger and, if the blush on the stylist's face was an indication, he was apparently a _looker_. Perfect for his cover.

"You're a doll," he said as he forked over a hefty tip...and then blinked at his own statement. Where did _that_ phrase come from?

She blushed brighter and fumbled to give a response. "Um...if...uh...that is...there's a good men's clothing store right down the street if you're looking to complete your look...not that there's anything wrong with your clothes...I mean...um..."

He glanced down at the ragged hoodie and jeans he wore, the dirty glove covering his metal hand. She had a point. Even with the new hairdo, Stark would dismiss him on his clothes alone. "What's the address?"

She wrote it down and put a number underneath it. "In case you need any more help."

_Flirting. She's flirting_, the thought flashed through his mind. He wasn't entirely sure how to respond, so he just said thanks and moved on to the store. A few hours later, he ended up walking out with some dark jeans, black boots, a forest green shirt, and a black leather jacket to top it off. He also purchased some new gloves and managed to leave the store without anyone catching a glimpse of his metal limb.

He caught a cab outside to head to Stark Tower. Now that he had the stylist's blushing as a stamp of approval on his good looks, he was confident he could get into the building. The cab dropped him off and he strode right up to the front desk with a confidence which, if he didn't feel, he at least _looked_ like he had.

The woman at the desk gave him an unimpressed glance as he slouched casually against the counter. "Let me guess. You're one of the models."

"How'd you know?" He smirked, the curl of his lips feeling strange, but comfortable.

She shook her head. "I swear, the _ideas_ the man gets. As if anyone but _Tony_ wants models there. Wait there."

She started pushing buttons on her phone.

The soldier felt unease flicker through him at her casual dismissal. What if he wasn't attractive enough to pull off this role? It would be harder to get into Stark Tower again if he failed this time.

"Stark, we got another model." She rolled her eyes at the response. "No, it's another male...Natasha doesn't want models...whatever...I'll send him up."

The Soldier relaxed as she hung up and pointed at the elevator doors behind her. "Go to the 22nd floor, wait in the sitting room there, and _don't_ touch anything until Mr. Stark gets there."

"Thanks." He decided to forgo the _doll_ this time around. She didn't look like she would take kindly to that endearment.

The 22nd floor was all clean lines and modern furniture. He took a seat on one of the leather couches and scanned the surrounding hallways for signs of life. As he sat there, the thought came to him that he really wasn't certain what he was going to do when Stark got there. Play along and potentially get hired as a model? If he did that, Natasha would be sure to recognize him and he wasn't sure he wanted to have his cover blown at a party of all things. Interrogate Stark? Kidnap Stark? Use Stark to get him access to Steve's apartments?

He didn't have time to pick an option before the man himself appeared, talking to someone on his bluetooth as he scrolled through something on his tablet. Behind him appeared another man: short, blond, and well-muscled, grinning at something Stark said.

The Soldier tensed as he scanned the newcomer. He wasn't expecting another person. Just from the way the man walked, he could tell the blond knew how to handle himself.

They both stopped at the edge of the sitting room as Stark finished up his phone call. "I don't care. I want a bouncy castle. Tell me you don't want to see Bruce in a bouncy castle? It'll be great fun. Get me one. Later."

Tony hung up and zeroed in on him. "I don't know, Clint, this one might give you a run for your money."

The blond scoffed. "Hardly. Tasha's loyal to me."

"I'm sure. You, Fabio, what's your name?"

It took the Soldier a moment for him to grasp that Stark was talking to him. He stood up uncertainly, blurting the first name that came to mind, "James."

James. That just _felt _right.

"James. I'm sure you know who I am. This is Clint, he's a bona-fide model inspector today and he'll be joining us as he has nothing better to do."

"He promised me beautiful women. All we've seen are male models so far. I call that a rip-off," Clint remarked as he sprawled out on the couch across from the Soldier. "It might also have something to do with the fact that his girlfriend no longer approves of having models at his parties. Or maybe this is her revenge - sending a surplus of male models so that he gets to see what it feels like when everyone is paying attention to her and Tasha instead of him."

"Pepper would never do that." Tony _did_ look a little pale at the thought though. He sat down on the couch next to the Soldier, eyeing him suspiciously. "Portfolio?"

"I don't have one."

Tony lit up, jabbing a triumphant finger at Clint. "See! She does love me! She's sending clueless ones."

"That could actually work in her favor."

"You're about to be demoted from model inspector to carpet cleaner." Tony turned his nose up at Clint and focused back on the Soldier. "So, James, what work have you done?"

Before he could think of a reasonable response, a woman's voice joined the conversation, coming from around the corner, "Pepper told me what you two were up to. I can assure you that none of the ladies attending are intere-"

Natasha came around the corner. It took a moment for her eyes to meet the Soldier's, but she _knew_.

The Soldier moved a hair faster than she did. He threw a knife at Clint, the blade slipping just under his wrist and pinning his sleeve to the couch. Then he reached out with his metal arm and grabbed Tony by the throat at the same time Natasha trained her gun on him.

Tony squeaked. "_Fabio!_"

"Don't even think about it, Natalia. I'm faster than you, always have been," the Soldier warned.

A cold smirk crossed Natasha's lips. "Maybe in the past but not now."

"Do you want to bet his life on it?" He tightened his grip and Tony squawked again.

Clint managed to extract himself from the knife and now held it loosely in his hand, ready to throw. "Tasha?"

"Winter Soldier," she responded.

The blond swore.

"Give credit where credit is due. He cleans up well," Tony croaked. "Neither of us recognized him."

"Both of you are morons." She kept her gun steady. "Why are you here?"

"Steve Rogers."

Her eyes narrowed. "There's a reason he's on lockdown. He's recovering...from what _you_ did to him. Why would we let you near him again?"

"I knew him."

"Not good enough."

The Soldier tensed, thinking through his options. He could see Clint poised to act. If he and Natasha moved at the same time, he could throw Tony at one of them and disable the other, but he didn't come here to fight...did he?

The choice was going to be taken from him in a few seconds. He could see Natasha shifting enough to signal Clint.

The elevator doors slid open and Steve stepped out. "Tony, JARVIS said one of the models was attacking -"

He trailed off as he took in the situation. His face brightened when he caught sight of the Soldier. "Bucky? What are you doing?"

The Soldier froze, face to face with the man who kept showing up in his dreams - sometimes tiny, sometimes the way he was now - the man who wouldn't fight him. The man he _knew_. "I couldn't get to you."

"Okay." Steve shifted his weight. "Is there a reason you wanted to see me?"

"I wanted...to talk."

"Boy, have you guys got to work on your communication ski - urk!"

Steve pretended he didn't hear the latest unhelpful bit from Tony. "So... you came as a model?"

The Soldier could see Steve trying to hide his smile. "It worked."

"Okay. Would you mind letting go of Tony?"

"Tell your friends to back off and I will."

"Natasha -"

"Steve, I know you _think_ you know this man, but he did try to kill you a few weeks ago."

"He also saved me and I don't think we have the right to deny anyone a second chance."

Natasha's jaw tightened, but she let her gun drop. Clint relaxed.

The Soldier glanced at Steve, who gave him a nod. He released Stark.

"Holy stranglehold, Batman! What did they put in your rabbit food? Your fingers are like steel, you know that, right?" Tony staggered away from him, a hand rubbing at his throat.

The Soldier stared at him.

Tony blinked. "Oh. Right."

Steve clears his throat. "Now that we're done trying to kill each other, why don't we go upstairs and talk?"

"Only if there are drinks." Tony led the way to the elevators. "Also, new house rule: No Models."

The Soldier...no..._James_ smiled.

* * *

I know, I know, Winter Soldier's Bucky side is showing too much, but I had to have something lighthearted after all of those kicked puppy looks he kept giving.


End file.
